


I wait for you like a bullet.

by kaywaeeve



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Declarations Of Love, Distance, Explicit Language, It Gets Worse, Longing, Love/Hate, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, POV Multiple, Self-Doubt, Self-Sacrifice, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Yakuza, but then it gets better, mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-05 14:07:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12796143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaywaeeve/pseuds/kaywaeeve
Summary: Viktor left the Katsuki Group and now leads a gang of his own. Yuuri is still trapped under the weight of his Family name, the Yakuza and his own mind. Yuri Plisetsky became one of Viktor's underlings while Otabek had disappeared off the face of the planet. The possibility that the one that they loved might not be dead had to be enough.Until they are connected, once again - and by a fire, of all things.You could say that love burns hotter than gunpowder.





	1. burning brightly crimson, flame of love

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost of my first YOI fic. Since I wasn't pleased with the editing, I'm fixing it for my own collection of scenarios. If you hadn't read it yet, welcome. I'll warn you that, even though this isn't supposed to be a hard read, it is a puzzle. There's a lot of cuts and shifts. It's okay to click off if that isn't your sort of thing. 
> 
> I've been missing long fics, so this might even be for the best - although it is too bad that I lost your comments and kudos. They were very meaningful to me nevertheless.
> 
> I hope this can distract you for a while and help with your yoi abstinence. Good reading!

沈む陽と昇る月二人のように  
すれ違い闇を呼ぶ  

 _T_ _he setting sun and the rising moon_  
_Miss each other like the two and all forth darkness_

 

* * *

 

 

 

**UNITED STATES – 3:24AM**

 

_“ ... reporting live from the massive fire that has taken over Lyrium Casino-Hotel at Saint Antoine Street. The Detroit Police Department has taken custody of guests who were supposed to be inside the Hotel at the time of the occurrence, but were supposedly chased out by masked armed men before their lives were put at risk. The DPD, at this time, however, has stated that no further information shall be made public for the benefit of the investigation.”_

            - Man, this was big. – Phichit stated, monotone, with one hand over his mouth while staring at the flat screen TV.

            - How did it feel to succeed at your first job? – asked Chris, his head resting on the younger man’s shoulder. He tilted his head to the side so rosy lips were against tan ear – Did it feel _good_?

            Pichit turned around, startled, but quickly got over his surprise – and the fact he had found Chris’ breath on his ear seductive as hell – to smile widely at the Swiss, who still had his hands in his pockets. The excitement was finally kicking in. Pichit couldn’t hold his laughter, charged with joy and honest-to-goodness relief. He had _made_ it. He was one of _them_ now. The Thai screamed _“woo-hoo!”_ at the top of his lungs from the 24th floor of the building they called Nora, oblivious of the older man who was nodding his head in secondhand embarrassment. _Finally._ He felt himself calm down while looking at the city lights from the large window. He had done good today. People were safer now because he had taken action.

            - I wish I hadn’t wasted so much time.

            - Before deciding to join us, you mean? – Chris asked, gazing at the other man’s silhouette against the window.

            - Waiting for a friend to find me worthy.

            Christophe noticed the excitement had left Phichit’s voice. In its place, there was some sort of longing. His voice sounded melancholic. It was like music to the Swiss’ ears, but made his chest feel tight. He wanted to know more.

             - Is that friend Katsuki?

            Phichit let his forehead gently touch the glass. It was so strange to hear his former roommate being referred to as “Katsuki” again. Like the young master that he was.

            The security inside the dorm passing as college students. The private planes they would use to travel to each of their home countries together. The special treatment they received in Hasetsu.

             Bocchan, Bocchan, Bocchan.

            - That’s him alright.

            - So you’ve got a soft spot for him as well?

            - You may say so, yes. And _“as well”_? You know Yuuri?

            - I have met him a few times. He’s quite the tease.

           Phichit finally turned to the man behind him with his furrowed brows.

           - Whatever do you mean? – It came out way more interested than he had meant.

           - Let’s just say he knows how to work a pole and tango his way into a man’s heart.

           - Don’t tell me you and Yuuri—

           - Oh, no, darling. – Phichit’s expression softed – Viktor on the other hand… - His eyes widened again. – … got his hopes up for _rien_. – His expression was confused once more – It’s French for "nothing". – Phichit’s mouth formed an “O” – Okay, enough, I’m tired of this game.

           The Thai watched as the older man took something out of the fridge. A bottle of champagne. That reminded him that this was a night to remember. To celebrate. Chris opened it as dramatically as possible. Looking at the city lights, it felt like New Year’s Eve. A new beginning.

           _I only wish Yuuri could be here._

 

 

* * *

 

ねえ僕はまだ変わらずに  
取り残されたまま

_I am still here, left behind,  
Unchanged._

 

 

 

**JAPAN – 4:24PM**

 

           "They are done for, you hear me, Katsuki? This is not going to be forgotten."

           He resented the time he picked up the phone with every fiber of his being. Yuri could feel his muscles tensing. _This can’t be happening. I can’t believe this._ The voice on the phone was one he had to _listen_ and _obey_ , but turned to nothing but gibberish in his ear once his heart started racing, cold sweat dripping from his forehead to his cheek to the thighs of his black jeans, one hand hastily trying to dry it off, to deny it; he was not nervous, he could _not_ be. After all, there was no other way.

           _Listen and obey_. He wasn’t a weakling anymore.

           - Katsuki! – he heard somebody yell in front of him.

          The phone flew out of Yuuri’s hand. His vision was getting blurry. There was a pair of brown shoes in front of his. Somebody was standing there. Who was it?

          _Who cares?_

_I care._

_“You’re soft, Yuuri.”_

_You’re wrong!_

_But Viktor..._

_“I see you, morkov’ dikaja”_

_Viktor._ The image in front of him was nothing but a mess of black and brown and colorful spots. “Yuuri” he heard in the distance. “Breathe! Goddamnit, Katsuki, snap out of it!” He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath. Yuuri supported his forehand on both hands, elbows pressing painfully into thighs. _Why did he do this? Didn’t he know that would happen if..._ Of course he was aware. Viktor Nikiforov was always aware. It was Yuuri who had to be kept away. It was Yuuri who needed to be shielded from the reality of his family name. It was Katsuki Yuuri, a thorough-bread Yakuza, who had a foreigner, an outsider, claim the position that was supposed to be his. First, with Viktor. Then, with Seung-gil Lee. All because he couldn’t face his duties. Because he started to shiver each time he saw a corpse. Because he felt ill at the sight of his own blood. Because he could not see that blue-eyed man as a traitor.

 

         Why did he do it? Didn’t he know?

         Why did he do it? Didn’t he know?

         Why did he do it? Didn’t he know?

        _Didn't you know, Viktor? Why did you do it?! **How could you do this to me?!**_

        ... _h_ _ow could you have me do this... to you..._

 

       - Boss, it’s Nishigori. Katsuki’s... frozen... at the moment. – he kneeled in front of the panicked man – What’s gotten into him? Oh, yes, I’ll put you on speaker.

       Even Yuuri’s legs started trembling. He was doing it again, being weak. He knew the routine. Unpleasant News-Panic attack-Punishment. It had always been this way. The only person who had ever gently held him and calmed him down was the one who had caused this.

       "You never change, eh, son? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you anxious. It’s fine if you don’t have the guts, there are plenty of men who’d get the job done."

       Yuuri huffed.

       - Oh, right, yes, I forgot I’m not needed for a second there.

      "That’s right."

      His jaw stiffened. _I am not a weakling anymore._ He laid his head on one of his hands, his eyes closed, and took the cellphone from Nishigori’s with the other. He put it off speaker. Yuuri inhaled deeply. _1, 2, 3_. Exhaled. Then, led the phone toward his ear.

       - I’ll do what I have to do. – he stated coldly, in spite of the tears forming under his eyelids.

 

 

* * *

 

  
美しいもの全てなくなったなら  
忘れてしまえるの

_If all things beautiful were to disappear  
Would I be able to forget?_

 

 

 

**RUSSIA – 11:45 AM.**

 

      - Thanks for meeting with me. I know it was asking for a lot.

      - Yep. And I’m that stupid. – said Mila, sipping her coffee.

      She had become the middleman – or, as she always corrected, middle _woman_ – for the communication between the gangs and their anonymous sponsors in Russian territory. She was the only one Otabek could turn to right now. He had called her only a few minutes earlier and asked if she could meet him in a café near her apartment. Otabek hadn’t had any contact with her for three years, therefore she could only give him a clear reply after the shock of hearing from the Kazakh worn off.

      - Your hair is longer now.

      - Yeah, and my patience with you only gets shorter. – she said, putting her cup of coffee down – You have two minutes to convince me to hear you out.

      The reaction came as no surprise to Otabek. Mila was a very straightforward woman and she was _pissed_. What weighed on Otabek was that she had every right to be. He had given it to her himself. To everyone. To... _him_. And, for _him_ , it was time to come clean.

       - I killed his father.

       Otabek was a very straightforward man himself. Mila looked confused.

       - Yura’s. – he specified.

       - No, I understood that, but Yurotchka doesn’t have a father. – she seemed to be collecting her thoughts – Oh my God.

       - Yes. – Otabek said, before she could continue, presuming she’d figured it out.

       - YOU KILLED NICOLAI?! – She yelled, getting up from the chair. Otabek’s eyes widened. He scanned the room hastily to check if anybody had heard a woman stating he had committed murder before noon. Thank God Mila lived close to such a rundown coffee shop.

       - Fuck no! You nuts?!

       - Then... Who... What...

       - His real father. The bastard that led his mother to prostitution and never gave a damn about his son.

      She sat back down slowly. It was clear Mila couldn’t keep up with the sudden confession.

      - Why? – she murmured.

      - The truth is Nicolai had been giving money to the bastard so he wouldn’t hurt Yuri. However, when he got sick, the hospital bills were ridiculous and it got to a point where he couldn’t give him as much anymore. I was keeping watch over Yuri’s house one night and I saw a couple of guys lurking outside the window of Nicolai’s bedroom. Both had a lizard tattoo on the neck. I know the type, Mila. I knew that couldn’t be good. So, since they didn’t see me, I stuck around.

       - And...? – She was completely immersed in the story, like a child listening to some tale.

       - One went to the other side, you know, Yuri’s bedroom, I guess to check if he was asleep, signed to the other that it was clear, and the damn scumbag broke Nicolai’s window.

      Mila let out a gasp. Now she was worried. In fact, she looked terrified.

      - He opened it from the inside, – Otabek continued – and got in. While the other one kept watch outside the window, I got in from the front door since I had a key. You remember, right? ‘Cause my job was precisely to protect them from the Lizards in the first place. When I opened the door to Nicolai’s bedroom...

      The memories started to come back to him. Otabek sat his elbows on the table, his fingers intertwined over his mouth, eyes staring blankly. Mila waited patiently for him to continue.

      - He had stuck plastic wrap around Nicolai’s nose and mouth to suffocate him. I lost it, Mila. I didn’t calculate, analyze, strategize, nothing they ever taught me to do. I went from behind him, put my arm around his neck tight enough so he couldn’t warn the other guy, took the plastic off Nicolai’s face with my free hand and, while Yuri’s grandfather gasped, his father’s knees got weaker and weaker, his oxygen levels lower and lower, his heartbeat slower and slower, until I was sitting in Nicolai’s room with a lifeless man on my goddamn lap.

       - Beka... – Mila couldn’t find the right words, but there was no judgement in her voice, only deep concern – Beka, I...

       Otabek finally focused his vision on the redhead in front of him and, with his head supported by one of his hands, offered her a sad smile.

       - I mean, Yuri would’ve never condemned you for this. In fact, he would’ve thanked you for saving his grandfather.

       Otabek’s smile became truer.

       - I know.

       - Then why did you leave?

       - The other guy saw my face. He ran away before I could do anything. I mean, a gunshot would’ve woken Yura up and, by that time, he knew nothing about his father or his mother... He was fifteen. I couldn’t. And, on the other hand, the guy probably didn’t shoot me ‘cause he would get a lot more praise by being the one that started a manhunt on me than the one that simply put a bullet through my brain without a little torture.

      - I think he shit his pants and ran off, Beka.

      He laughed

      – Oh, there it is. – Mila said.

      - What?

      - Your laugh. – she smiled – I really missed it. I really missed you. - the readhead gently pinched his cheek - Why did you leave us, Beka?

      - Nicolai asked me to. I had thought of it myself, but he helped me make a decision. He said Yura would be safer if I had no relationship with him, since I had target on my back.

      - Yura is a watchdog now, Beka.

      - I know. And he’s under Viktor. And I’m sure that fire at Lyrium was their job. You know what this means.

      - The Yakuza will hunt them down and eat them like they eat dogs.

      - Mila, what the fuck.

      - Am I wrong?

      - Yes. Because you’ll tell me where he is and they’ll only get to Yuri over my skinned dead body on a stick.

      - He’s in Calgary. At Nora. You’ll have to work real hard. You hurt him quite badly.

      - I’ve got that covered, my friend, ‘cause I love him real hard and I miss him quite badly.

      - Oh my God, still a sap.

      - Yeah. And I missed you, too.

 

* * *

 

月が霞む朝飛び立つ  
鳥たちの歌が耳を撫でても  
ねえ僕はまだこの場所で  
愛に囚われたまま

_Even if the song by the birds that set off_  
_In the morning when the moon dims brush against my ears_  
_See, I still remain trapped here_  
_By my love for you_

 

 

**CANADA – 01:45AM**

 

       Under the starless sky, the Russian men were like wolves lurking in the shadows. Leaning against the matte black BMW, the teen smoking a cigarette, golden waves falling on his face, long enough to hide the shoulders sneaking from the sleeveless skintight white shirt was Yuri Plisetsky. They called him _The Siren_ , beautiful and alluring, yet cynical and devilish. He was now eighteen-years-old and officially part of the Sverhu, a gang of underdogs-turned-vigilantes. Viktor Nikiforov was on the phone with somebody in Detroit. A bunch of them had gone there to put an end to a women trafficking operation led by the Japanese mafia. Yuri knew what the overall picture was, so he couldn’t care less about the details. He wanted to get this over with and get the hell home already.

        - So you guarantee nobody got hurt? – Viktor asked whoever he was talking to. – That’s good. I know a storm is coming, but I couldn’t be calmer. I can finally sleep at ease.

         Yuri felt somewhat relieved the mission had gone well. Otherwise, Viktor would start one of his melodramatic monologues about justice or whatever. The man thought he was everyone’s dad even though he had just turned thirty. They both were aware of every sound in their surroundings, from the hassle of the stray cats wandering the Calgary night to the run of the motors as _they_ were approaching. The Mighty Ones. Yes, that’s what they called themselves. Yuri still had no idea how the boss allowed such a thing. Acknowledging them, Viktor said goodbye with a “Tell the kid I’m proud of him” and threw his phone on the front seat. Yuri furrowed his brow when he saw it, but didn’t voice his confusion. The man could be a bit aloof, but there was no other like him in the business. No one even bothered to give the other Russian man a pompous nickname because there was no need for one. The one he’d been given at birth foresaw all he’d become. A victor. A legend everyone believed in, including the teen. All four motorcycles stopped 5ft across from them, however, noticing only one of them was taking their helmet off, Viktor turned to Yuri and said _“Oh, yay, a performance”_ with the fakest excitement he could’ve mustered.

          - Oh, fuck me. – complained Yuri to himself when he saw who it was.

          JJ. He had just taken over as leader of The Mighties - Yes, that's how Yuri and Viktor decided to call them - at twenty-two. At first, the Russians couldn’t quite grasp why he rubbed them the wrong way, but it all unraveled once he started calling himself The King. Actually, Viktor had said something similar to earlier when they first heard it. _“Oh, the king of the mighties. Un-freaking-predictable.”_

          - How ya doin’, fellas? – greeted the Canadian getting off his motorcycle – Good to see ya.

          Yuri rolled his eyes. Yeah, good thing he had started smoking early.

          - Did you hear from Chris? – asked Viktor, a heart-shaped smile forming on his face – It all went perfecto.

          - Yeah, we got word from the boss that The Mighty Ones would be joining the… Damn, still can’t pronounce your name… – JJ waited a moment, expecting one of them to provide the pronunciation, but the Russians stayed silent – … you guys… for the aftermath.

           - We will need to watch out for each other now. After all, we attacked the Yakuza’s main operation.

           - I’ve been meaning to ask this… - said JJ, taking a couple steps closer to the two – Why _did we_ , though?

           Viktor chuckled. He tended to turn very acid and sarcastic when encountered with Jean Jaques-Leroy. It was almost funny how a twenty-two-year old narcissistic playboy could be leading a powerful group of people such as The Mighties and trusted with a task of wiping the blacks of this world in ways that were shades of grey.

           - Listen, boy, - Viktor also stepped forward so his face was inches from the other man’s – we hack into Government computers. We break into correctional facilities. We shoot guns, throw knives, burn buildings and whatever kind of crap that seems to get you off. But we do not, listen to me, we do not leave underage girls to be sold to the phony, good-for-nothing, money-laundering sons of bitches we were supposed to be knocking out cold. Do you understand me?

           JJ swallowed, but didn’t avert his gaze from the piercing blue eyes staring back at him. However, the words seemed to be stuck in the Canadian’s throat. Viktor showed him a mischievous smile and hooked his thumb and forefinger on his own chin.

            - You were saying…?

            A small chuckle from a usually quiet Yuri could be heard in the otherwise dead-silent back alley.

           - So all the geisha smuggling is done? – JJ finally let out, discreetly taking a step back - Sheesh, that’s gonna disappoint some people.

           Yuri couldn’t help but make a face. The jackass in front of him got more moronic each time he opened his mouth.

           - Not you, I hope, for basic human reasons. – said Viktor, leaning on his back beside Yuri – The Japanese, though... They are gonna come for us guns blazing.

          The teen dropped his cigarette on the floor and stomped on it with his sneaker. Viktor looked at him knowingly. The blonde usually let go of his cigarettes only when he decided it was time to speak. Yuri looked up, feline green-eyes sparking metallic.

           - Bring it the fuck on _._

 

* * *

 

消える事のないこの炎がいつか君を  
優しく照らせればいい暖かく

_I hope that this undying flame  
Can someday cast light on you, gently… warmly._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to Lee Taemin's "Flame of Love" [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kh-A6z7M0zc).  
> Read my Otayuri fic "Three Cheers for Five Years" [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10872882).  
> Find me on Tumblr [here](bekagelshishair.tumblr.com/).  
> And leave your comments down here!
> 
> See you soon. - G


	2. the same blue sky as you

向かい風に 飛び立つ 木の葉

すこし方向を変えて歩こう君が手を引く

The leaves fly with the head wind.

Hold my hand, let's change our directions a little bit as we walk.

 

 

**FUKUOKA, JAPAN**

 

 _The deafening thunders were like growling monsters threatening to break down the walls and catch the boy, alone in a room that, in his terror, became a haunted house, a howling forest, an asphyxiating maze. There was too much space for the beasts to hide, too much furniture for the ghosts to crawl from under. He was just a twelve-year-old boy on a bed four times his size, burying his crying face on one of the pillows because he knew, he just_ knew, _there was something behind him, beside him, beneath him, above him._

**Thunder.**

_Yuuri ran without opening his eyes, running into the foot of the couch that furnished the lavish bedroom instead of a tent or toys. He fell forward, but brought himself back up quickly and ran out the door, closing it with all of his strength, the noise reverberating with the scary sounds of the thunderstorm. He opened his eyes, they were burning from crying. He was standing in the hall. The walls were adorned with paintings and picture frames he couldn’t quite make out._ Why is it so chilly? _The temperature inside was always the same, even when it was snowy, but, now, being barefoot bothered him because it was cold beneath his feed._

     “Hardwood floors”, _he thought and smiled sadly. It was Hasetsu, Yuuri realized._

_He ran his fingers across the walls on each side and tiptoed one foot in front of the other, balancing his weight like he used to do in ballet class. He imagined walking on a tight rope, the spotlight only on him, like in the circus he had heard of. Yuuri relied greatly on imagination to experience what other kids told him was fun. Even though he’d asked multiple times, his father never took him to the circus nor allowed his mother to._

     Mom. _Yuuri decided to walk and get to his mother’s bedroom faster. It was where he had intended to go anyway when he was afraid of the storm, but it had gotten quiet and he had gotten distracted. At least, the fear was not crippling him anymore._ Here it is.

_As soon as he opened the door, the atmosphere changed. The walls were burning crimson and there was nothing but a king-size bed covered by a lace mosquito net. It wasn’t cold anymore. On the contrary, it was warm. This was the feeling he always had when he curled up in his mother’s arms. It was warm and safe. The boy calmly walked towards the bed and gently slid his hands between the middle pieces of lace to spread the net just enough so he could kneel beside her. But it wasn’t his mother who lay inside the curtains._

_On the other side from where he knelt, another boy slept, the silver hair covering his face was long enough to cover half of the pillow next to Yuuri._ “Gorgeous”, _he thought to himself. He suddenly realized that that was the Russian teenager his father had brought home._ Viktor, yes. _He remembered those piercing blue eyes._

_\- You don’t look so scary now. – Yuuri whispered wearing a small smile. He had been so afraid of the newcomer before._

_The boy stared at the hand lying awkwardly over the white silk sheets._

     He is so pale.

     Oh, and his fingers are long.

_Yuuri felt a sudden urge to touch them and slowly touched the tips of the Russian’s fingers with the tips of his. The boy chuckled._

_\- You’re cold, Viktor. I’ll cover you up with a blanket, okay?_

_Yuuri sat on the top corner of the bed, careful not to sit on the silver hair and rolled the bed sheets to cover the freezing teenager._

_\- I thought Russia was really cold. – Yuuri whispered, hugging his knees – Shouldn’t you be hot in this room? Oh, no, you might be sick!_

_The boy gently brushed the hair out of the Russian’s face so he could feel his temperature. His forehead felt cold under Yuuri’s fingertips, but he continued until he tucked all the hair that was covering Viktor’s face behind his ear. Then, he decided to go back to where he knelt so he could get a better look at the teenager’s face. When Yuuri knelt back, his breath got caught in his throat. He was met with lifeless blue eyes staring blankly at nowhere. Yuuri’s heart started racing. He was gasping for air. He wanted to retreat, but his body wouldn’t move. His hands were shaking, so the boy decided to hold his weight by holding tightly to the lace mosquito net behind him._

_He hit the back of his head on the bedroom floor._ “Did it rip?”. _It seemed like there was a piece of lace in this hand. Yuuri opened it to check and there were flowers. A bunch of little white flowers._ Queen Anne’s lace _. Morkov' dikaja. The boy looked up. The entire net was made out of them and they were falling over Viktor’s body like snowflakes. On instinct, he ran to him and tried to pick them up, but they were stuck to the porcelain white skin._

_\- No, you’ll suffocate him! Let him breathe!_

_"Who will?", he heard his own voice fill the room, "He’s already not breathing."_

_Yuuri was still franticly trying to take the flowers off of Viktor, the boy’s fingertips bleeding from the friction._

_"It’s pointless. He’s already a dead man. You couldn’t save him if you tried."_

_\- No, I’m going to save him! I have to save him! – Yuuri screamed, while sobbing and ripping the flowers with his bare hands, over and over._

_Nothing changed. No matter how hard he tried, nothing seemed to move. Yuuri found himself on top of the corpse of flowers, hiccupping, his head feeling like it was about to explode._

_"You’re soft, Yuuri.", it was his father’s voice. It continued to echo._

_Yuuri covered his ears with his weakened arms, but it was worthless._

_**You’re soft, Yuuri. Youre’re so-. You’re soft, Yuuri. You’re soft. You’re soft, Yuuri. Youre’re so-. You’re soft, Yuuri. You’re soft. You’re soft, Yuuri. Youre’re so-. You’re soft, Yuuri. You’re soft. You’re soft, Yuuri. Youre’re so-. You’re soft, Yuuri. You’re soft. You’re soft, Yuuri. Youre’re so-. You’re soft, Yuuri. You’re soft.** _

_\- SHUT UP! – He screamed with his eyes closed, his crying face now buried on the white flowers._

_And the voices suddenly stopped, only to be replaced by a whiper that seemed to come from under the Queen Anne's Laces._

_\- I see you, morkov’ dikaja._

 

      Yuuri woke up gasping for air, his hand tugging at the V-neck of his sleeping shirt covered in sweat.

 

 

* * *

 

素直に笑いあえること なんて素晴らしい気持ちだろう  
歩く速さに気をつけて

What a wonderful feeling it is - to smile kindly at each other,

careful not to take another step too fast.

 

 

 

**TERTEBORO, UNITED STATES**

 

     The data transfer would be completed just as Viktor landed in New Jersey. He had one laptop next to another on the tray in front of the private jet’s seat. The new laptop had been built specially for him, therefore there was no brand, serial number, invoice, nothing that could trace it back to him, the Sverhu or their sponsors. " _100%",_ Just as the wheels hit the ground.

    With the few minutes left before he was allowed to leave, the Russian man decided to finish the last task before closing his old laptop. He clicked “OK” and the full green bar disappeared, leaving only his wallpaper. Viktor touched the screen with his thumb, as if caressing the Japanese man’s hair through it. _Please, let my message get across,_ he wished, not knowing exactly upon whom or what, then changed the photo from a night of bliss, dancing and drinking, oblivious of the guns hidden beneath their tuxedos in a Buenos Aires ballroom.

    “2:58”, Viktor thought, “Chris’ flight must be landing right about now as well.” He thanked the flight crew, wished them a good afternoon and left the jet with a “See you tomorrow” after turning his back. The airport was as crowded as ever and the silver-haired man always drew too much attention to himself, even if only wearing light blue jeans, a plain black T-shirt and a pair of sunglasses. The line in Immigration seemed endless, but he was used to traveling like this and lying through his teeth when his time to be questioned arrived. This time, it was a female officer. It was his lucky day. All he had to do was take his sunglasses off. He had always been popular with women. It never meant enough to get to his head, but it had made the job easier many times. One look, one sentence in a different language and they were done for.

      He didn’t have to wait long at the Domestic Arrivals gate. Christophe and Phichit were all smiles coming out of it. They seemed to have hit it off in Detroit.

     - Vitya! – greeted Chris, jumping the Russian man for a tight hug.

     Viktor stumbled a little, but hugged the Swiss back, a heart-shaped smile lurking from the younger man’s shoulder. Phichit watched shyly, wanting to take a picture, but thinking to himself “Photos always seem to bite you in the ass in movies.” And it was true, it was not smart to have physical evidence of their presence in the Terteboro Airport, eleven miles from Hoboken, where the Miei Occhi would conveniently be stationed. The dots wouldn’t be exactly hard to connect.

     - Sawasdee Krab, Phichit. – greeted Viktor, taking a step closer to the Thai – It’s good to finally meet you in person.

    The twenty-two-year-old was starstruck. He couldn’t help but remember the stories his Japanese roommate had shared about the Russian Yakuza that "never ceased to surprise" him. Now that they were face to face, Viktor Nikiforov didn’t have an intimidating aura, but Phichit couldn’t find the words to greet the older man back. It was like shaking hands with a hero. Seeming to have noticed the Thai’s astonishment, the silver-haired man laid a hand on Phichit’s shoulder. “Welcome”, he said, with a warm smile.

      And Phichit knew he didn’t only mean to New Jersey.

 

 

* * *

 

もしも道に迷ったなら 一緒に近道 みつけようよ  
考えすぎなくていいよ

And, if we get lost in our way, let's find a shortcut together.

It's better not to think too much.

 

 

 

**JAPAN, 2014**

 

_\- The young master has been taken, sir._

_The tires on the black Dodge Charger screeched when he suddenly hit the brakes at 60mph on the road to Shikogu. The Russian pulled his phone from the magnet that held it on the panel violently and led it to his ear._

_\- Say that again._

_\- He was kidnapped. When we couldn’t contact any of the guards, I drove to Hasetsu myself and he was nowhere to be found._

_\- When._

_\- I called you as soon as I realized it, sir._

_\- By whom._

_\- I wouldn’t know, sir. They have made no contact._

_Viktor took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts. Situations like these couldn’t be handled irrationally. He let the back of his head rest heavily on the driver’s seat, pressing the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger._

_\- How could this happen? What about the guards?_

_\- All dead, sir. Poisoned._

_The Russian plunged his body forward when he heard it. Poison seemed like a very farfetched plan to kill a considerable amount of trained Yakuza members._

_\- Nishigori, I need to you listen to me very carefully, okay? – asked Viktor, preparing himself to start driving again, one hand holding the steering wheel – This was obviously an inside job, so whoever killed the guards poisoned their food or water and left Yuutopia as soon as it worked. I need you to check the passenger list of every flight that left Hasetsu and neighboring towns since you last heard from the guards. Check for our pseudonyms, inconsistencies, nothing must go unnoticed. Nobody would betray the Katsuki and dare to stay in Japan. Also, check for strange activities in the bank accounts of the guards that were assigned to the Young Master’s security._

_\- I will have our hackers take care of it, sir._

_Viktor started the car, smoothly taking speed._

_\- And Nishigori?_

_\- Yes, sir._

_\- I know you and the young master are like brothers. Don’t let this take a toll on you. I promise I will bring him home._

 

* * *

 

終わりのない 恋があるかもなんて  
信じても どうか 笑わないで…

I wonder if an endless love does exist.

Don't laugh if you believe me.

 

 

 

**SAMARA, RUSSIA**

 

     Mila instructed the Kazakh to stop in front of a tall building half-an-hour away from the coffee shop when they had talked before. Otabek had spent the night on the redhead’s couch after hours updating each other on three years of their lives. It had "скрадка Hotel" written on big letters over the tinted glass that covered all fifteen stories.

     - Are you subtly kicking me out of your apartment? – inquired Otabek, sarcastically.

     She slapped the back of his helmet lightly before getting off the motorcycle.

     - Like I'd ever, stupid. – she secured her helmet where she sat before – It’s just a façade.

     - Doesn’t that mean "hiding-place"? – he asked, pointing at the name of the hotel.

     - Clever, right? Now, come on.

     She gestured for him to follow her and walked into the building. It looked like a regular hotel, a very luxurious one, but still not distinguishable. Mila pressed "14" on the elevator and it led them straight into a white room, infested with security guards. She told one of them that “the boss” was aware. He figured, by the way the each of the men were giving him a death-stare, that she meant Yakov was aware the woman was bringing a visitor. The guard Mila had spoken to entered the room behind him quickly, before returning and gesturing for them to get inside. Otabek looked at Mila trying to convey the awkwardness he was feeling. She shrugged.

      - Welcome to the Sverhu's headquarters.

      - Back in my day, we were all on top of each other in Yakov’s garage. – said the Kazakh, entering the room right behind her.

      Yakov was sitting in a dark-brown leather armchair, a cigar in his mouth, staring at the man like a father who was waiting to catch his son trying to sneak back home after curfew. Otabek didn’t dare to take a seat across the table, him and Mila just leaned against the door that had been closed behind them from outside.

     - Good morning, sir. – Mila was the one to break the silence.

     - Don’t “good morning” me when you brought back the prodigal son.

     There was no real discontent on the elder’s voice.

     - Actually, sir, I was the one who went after Mila. – he straightened his spine in a military position – I want back in, sir.

     Yakov furrowed his brows.

     - You _“want back in”_? – he ironized – What the devil is wrong with the young these days and their under-appreciation of proper language?

     The elder let out a long sigh and adjusted himself on the brown chair, pulling it closer to the table.

     - What’s your reason, Altin?

     Otabek felt some sort of warmth inside from hearing his last name on the elder’s voice after so long.

     - I need to protect Yura.

     - Wasn’t that the reason you gave me when you left our organization, Altin?

     - Yes, it was, sir.

     - Then, can you give me a reason why I should trust somebody as inconsistent as you?

     The Kazakh let his back press against the door again, crossing his arms.

    - No, sir. - he shrugged and a smirk formed on his face – I can’t give you a reason because, if you didn’t trust me already, you wouldn’t have let Mila bring me into your headquarters in the first place.

     Yakov stared at him expressionless for a few seconds, then directed his gaze quickly to Mila before getting up, rounding the table and walking towards them, stopping at arm’s length in front of Otabek. Holding the cigar between two fingers by his side, the man let out a grunt, as if he had just given up a war against his better judgement. He slapped Otabek’s cheek lightly twice.

      - We missed your smartass.

      Otabek smiled.

      - Language, sir. – He pointed out playfully and got a slighty-less-light slap on his cheek this time.

 

* * *

  
落ち葉 踏みしめて ふと想う  
大人になると強くなるぶんだけ  
もろくなるよ

Stepping on the fallen leaves, I think of how much of an adult I've become.

And how strong. And how senile.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to "Kimi to Onaji Aozora" [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7iQoT0tElnQ).  
> Read my Otayuri fic "Three Cheers for Five Years" [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10872882).  
> Find me on Tumblr [here](http://bekagelshishair.tumblr.com/).  
> And leave your comments down here!
> 
> See you soon. - G


	3. long gone past and nights of weeping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea is to post one chapter everyday until the eighth or so, because it was after that that things were supposed to get - pardon my french - real fucked up and I emotionally couldn't--
> 
> But I do think my favorite part is getting to know the characters, which we're only beginning to do, so I'll shut up and let you read. This chapter's song is my heart and soul. It's No. 6's "Roukutosei no Yoru"
> 
>  
> 
> 傷ついたときは  
>  そっと包みこんでくれたらうれしい  
> 転んで立てないときは 少しの勇気をください
> 
>  
> 
> When I get hurt, it would make me really happy if you could gently embrace me.  
> When I stumble and can't stand up, please give me a glimmer your courage.

 

* * *

 

想いはずっと届かないまま 

今日も冷たい街でひとり ココが何処かも思い出せない

My feelings remain unknown to you.

I'm still wandering these cold streets alone; I can't even recall where I am.

 

 

**Otabek.**

**SAMARA, RUSSIA**

 

     Mila sat a cup of coffee in front of the Sverhu’s boss, who had returned to his leather chair. Then, she handed one to Otabek, who was still leaning against the door across from Yakov. She took a seat in the middle of the two men.

    - We need to figure out how we are going to go about this. – she sipped her tea – Yurotchka is a professional, sure, so he wouldn’t quit just because Otabek joined the team, but the boy would sulk over it behind closed doors. I don’t think it’s fair. After all, Beka’s reasons are quite selfish, to be honest.

     Selfish? He had never thought of it that way. Ever since the Kazakh had been assigned to look out for a fourteen-year-old boy who was the son of a member of a Russian street gang called The Lizards, he had been ready to step in front of a bullet for the blonde slender child with catlike green eyes that were threatening like a tiger’s. Otabek always thought: “I may not have a strong spirit like his, but I can, at least, use this body to protect him.” How was it selfish that—

     His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a fit of laughter. Yakov was _laughing_?

     - Well, it has been three years since this idiot – the elder pointed at Otabek with his head, looking at Mila – took off. He still thinks of Yurotchka as a defenseless child.

     - Right? If Yuri ever heard about this “protection” business, he’d just challenge Beka to a knife fight to show who should be protecting who.

     - I could see that. – Yakov’s eyes were shut tightly from laughing.

     Otabek lowered his head. Of course things had changed. He hadn’t seen Yuri’s face, not even a single picture in three years, the only image frozen in the Kazakh’s brain was of a fifteen-year-old sleeping soundly in the room across the hall from the one where his only friend had strangled his father for attempting to murder his grandfather. However, Otabek was fully aware that the blonde was no fragile teenager. Yuri Plisetsky’s childhood had been one no human should be made to live through, but that sleeping child had. And had come out of it stronger and braver, an ever-evolving monster. He found that… Truly inspiring.

     Otabek Altin would never even think of paralyzing the sight of those green eyes. He wanted to see how they sparkled today. How they had absorbed the years and the ordeals life had undoubtedly presented the Russian teen. How Yuri Plisetsky had used them as fuel to become a greater force of nature.

_How would I look reflected in your eyes, Yura?_

_How would they look into mine?_

    - Beka! – called Mila, her voice louder than before, as if she had called him multiple times.

    - What? – the Kazakh asked, only now noticing he had been lost in thought.

    - We sorted your entire future out while you were staring into space.

    Otabek straightened his posture, instantaneously interested, and focused his eyes on Yakov, waiting for his to speak.

    - After the Lyrium mission, I ordered the Sverhu to join forces with the group on the Canadian territory. Right now, Yuri is with them at the Nora in Calgary. I could speak with their new leader and recommend you to join them instead.

     - You mean the obnoxious quarterback? – Mila wasn’t really seeking confirmation.

     Yakov nodded, then shook his head, not quite knowing what he was confirming or denying.

     - He plays football? – the elder asked, confused.

     The redhead laughed.

     - No, boss, it’s just that, if we were in high school, that JJ would be that captain of the soccer team who thinks he’s the shit.

     Even Otabek furrowed his brows. Mila had consumed too much of American content while he was away.

     - You youngsters will be the death of me... – Yakov complained, building his frustrated-face – Anyway, since Yurotchka never left his missions unfinished, I won’t bother him for the likes of you. You can either join the Canadians or run away again.

     The elder lifted his brows and stared at the Kazakh expectantly, almost threateningly. _Being selfish, running away_ , was this really how they perceived Otabek’s actions? He shook off the thought.

     - I’ll do whatever.

     The corners of the leader’s mouth curled up just a little. He was pleased.

 

* * *

 

終わらない夜に願いはひとつ “星のない空に輝く光を”

戻れない場所に捨てたものでさえ 生まれ変わって明日をきっと照らす

In this endless night, I have only one wish: "Let there be light in this starless sky" 

Even what I left behind, in places I can never go back to, shall eventually radiate and illuminate tomorrow

 

 

**Viktor.**

**HASETSU, 2014**

 

  _Viktor parked the car in front of the onsen, locking the doors absentmindedly while hushing inside. There were Katsuki underlings dragging the bodies of their poisoned colleagues. Their death had resulted in the kidnapping of boss’ son - they wouldn’t be getting a proper burial. The Yakuza got creative every time they had to get rid of a corpse, a dozen of them wasn’t even a cause for worry. He had to investigate, find any lead that could indicate who had taken the young master._

_He spurt to Yuuri’s bedroom. It was immaculate. Nishigori had probably searched before him, so it must’ve been even more organized when it had first been broken into. The Russian had seen many crime scenes before and this wasn’t one of them. Where could have the young master been when he was kidnapped? Viktor felt a sharp pain in his heart when the image of strange men reaching for a sleeping, unknowing Yuuri crossed his mind. It was not like they had any relationship, but Yuuri was the Katsuki House’s son and their paths had crossed a few times over the years. A couple of years before the Russian arrived, Yuuri had found his mother dead on her bed in this same house--_

       His mother’s bedroom.

_Viktor ran the hall outside of the young master’s bedroom towards the forbidden door. Since her death, nobody was allowed to enter Mrs. Katuski’s sleeping chambers, not even her own son. But, then again, Yuuri might’ve—_

_There it was. As soon as Viktor opened the heavy door, he encountered what he recognized as a crime scene. The bed sheets were on the floor, pillows thrown haphazardly._

_\- He struggled. – Viktor murmured in realization._

_He walked in further. Beside the bed, there was an ivory dresser. A stain of blood on the right edge. The Russian could picture what had happened. They could’ve drugged Yuuri and taken him quietly, but chose to drag him out by force._ First, Yuuri struggled not to be pulled from the bed, grabbing everything that his hands could reach. No good. They got tired of fighting him, so they hit his head against the wooden dresser. _Anger started to boil inside of the blue-eyed man. They had taken their time with this. They had gotten their kicks out of this. They had enjoyed it._

_Viktor swallowed, staring at the crimson that stained the ivory. He needed to calm himself. He needed to continue searching for a clue. When he looked down, there was more blood. “It had to have been a deep cut to bleed this much”, he thought. He noticed the drops became smaller on the way to the door._

_\- They lifted him._

_There was nothing the young master could’ve done. Viktor continued scanning the mess more carefully and noticed there was a porcelain ornament shattered on the floor. He started to pick up the pieces and try to make it out._

_The Russian let out a gasp._

_\- He never stopped struggling. – Viktor had covered his mouth with the back of a hand._

I got it, young master.

_The silver-haired man made his way back to his car and called Nishigori as he started. He didn’t even let the receiver speak._

_\- The Naiki group took the young master. I’m still in Hasetsu, so don’t wait for me. Gather all the men and head to their House. Since they didn’t contact us, they won’t be expecting you._

_\- Right away, sir. – Nishigori replied, deciding to be practical and leave the questions for later._

_\- And Nishigori?_

_\- Yes, sir?_

_-_ Make it bloody.

 

 

 

* * *

 

星屑のなかであなたに出会えたいつかの気持ちのまま会えたらよかった

戻らない過去に泣いたことでさえ 生まれ変わって明日をきっと照らしてくれる

I met you among the stardust; it would be great if our feelings could remain unchanged

I wept for my unreturning past, but my tears will eventually radiate and illuminate tomorrow for me.

 

 

 **Otabek.**  

**SAMARA, RUSSIA**

 

       Somebody knocked on the door behind Otabek. He took a step to the side so they could open it. The visitor’s jaw dropped at the sight of the Kazakh. It was Georgi.

      - This is the most of expression I have ever seen on your face. – Otabek said, with a smirk and his arms crossed.

      After the comment, Georgi Popovich softened the shock in his features, offered a hand for the Kazakh to shake and went to stand beside the boss’ chair. He was Yakov Feltsman’s right-hand-man.

      - You got here just in time, Georgi, I am about to make a very draining phone call. – the elder continued to dial on the landline telephone.

      Mila had moved from the chair to go back to standing beside Otabek.

      - Hey, what was that about me being selfish? – he asked, only loud enough so the redhead could hear.

      She continued looking ahead.

      - You know in your heart Yuri doesn’t need you, Beka. He might like you, even love you, but he doesn’t need you. – the woman turned to him – The one who needs him, Beka, is you.

      Otabek swallowed. He didn’t even have the time to process what his friend had said. Yakov put the leader of The Mighty Ones on speaker. Mila had asked why not call their boss directly, to which the elder responded “I don’t know him. I wish I did, though. So I could ask what the hell he was thinking letting that brat lead his group.”

       - Hello, Jean. I’m sorry, is anybody with you?

      _“Not right now, no, Mr. Feltsman.”_

      The question intended to check if Yuri was around to hear the conversation. They still hadn’t planned on how to tell him. The rest of their talk was strictly professional. The Russian presenting the idea, not really as a favor, but not in a demanding tone and the Canadian mostly replying with “Yes, I understand.”

      - I have known Altin since he was sixteen. He is a skilled fighter and shooter. Definitely a good addition to your group.

      _“If you say so, Mr. Feltsman. We would gladly accept—You’re back?”_

      They noticed somebody had entered the room where the Canadian was.

      _“It’s midnight. Your turn.”_ – a distant voice replied. Otabek had a feeling that made his chest feel tight. _“Is that Yakov?”_ – the voice was getting clearer as it got closer to the phone. – _“Let me.”_ Otabek’s breath got caught in his throat. Was it—

      _“Yakov.”_

      Clear as day. He couldn’t even hear the elder’s reply. His lips parted. His eyes were open wide and they were starting to burn. He turned to Mila. He _knew_ , every nerve on his body recognized that voice, but he still had to ask.

      - Is that… - he whispered – Yura…?

      The woman just nodded with a smile.

      _“For fuck’s sake, get me out of here.”_

      - You’re missing me that much, kitten? – Mila practically yelled and stuck her tongue out playfully to a mesmerized Otabek.

      _“Oh, shut it, old hag.”_

     The redhead watched joyfully as her friend let out a silent laugh, soon covered by a fist that did nothing to conceal how the Kazakh was smiling. His eyes were getting red.

     - You’re about to cry. – she whispered and Otabek turned to her, shaking his head slightly. She didn't buy it. – You’re _biting_ your finger, Beka.

      He was now leaning on his shoulder. Otabek tucked both of his hands in his pockets and let the side of his head rest on the wall. There was no use hiding it. It was the first time he was hearing the voice of the one he loved after three years. He was not ready for this, but he was going to savor it. He closed his eyes to focus on his hearing. JJ complained about “being in the middle of call” in the distance.

      _“Tsk. What did the geezer want with you, anyway?”_

       - I’m right here. - Yakov let the teen know.

       _“Pardon me, geezer." -_ It made no difference - _"Anyway, I want out.”_

       - You _“want out”_?

      Everyone but Georgi covered their mouths not to laugh at the familiarity of the conversation. Otabek felt as if he was falling in love all over again.

       _“Viktor left for Jersey. He’s a piece of work, but he doesn’t make as much noise as these losers you partnered us with.”_

        - Are you quitting, Plisetsky?

        _“Huh?! Hell, no. Send me to cut Putin’s head off for all I care, I just don’t wanna listen to damned adults playing beer-pong all day.”_

       - God, I love him.

 _Shit. I said it out loud._ Mila was the only one who heard it.

      - I’m leaving for Calgary in ten minutes. You can stay with me when I get there. - the boss replied.

      _“Fine. Is everything alright over there?”_

      - Yes, Yurotchka. – Otabek could hear the smile in the elder’s voice – We’re all doing well.

      _“Good. See ya.”_

       - He hung up before we could ask him how he was. – Mila commented – It’s always like this.

      Yes, Otabek was aware. It had always been like this. But he was going to change it this time, he was going to care for Yuri.

      - Altin, are you coming? We have a jet to catch.

      - Now?

      - Are you getting cold feet? – challenged Yakov.

      - Not even in Russian winter, sir.

     They headed towards the elevator with Yakov updating Georgi on the situation. When they got inside, Georgi was still voicing his doubts about the Lyrium mission.

      - Yes, but why now? Why trust a newbie with it?

      - It surprises me you haven’t figured it out by now. Nikiforov plans to kill two birds with one stone.

      Mila huffed. – If it’s a stone the size of his ego, then there’s no need to fret, boys.

 

* * *

 

眠れないときは そっと手をつないでくれたらうれしい 夜明けは来るよと 囁いていて 嘘でもいいから

When I can't sleep, I'd be glad if you could hold my hand.

Please, quietly reassure that tomorrow will come, even if it's a lie.

 

 **Viktor.**  

**HOBOKEN, UNITED STATES**

 

     The façade was absolutely different from the Sverhu’s. The Miei Occhi’s headquarters were on top of a bakeshop on Washington Street.

     - I’m going to have a chat with the leader, alright? – told Viktor, making his way to the staircase and gesturing for the other two men find a table.

     - You’re going alone?! – Christophe shouted, clearly worried.

     - Oh, it’s fine. Order me some lobster tails, I'll be down in ten minutes.

     As the Russian disappeared upstairs, Phichit took a look around the shop. Amongst the sweets and treats, there were way too many waiters for such a small and quiet place. They were guards. They wouldn’t have let the other men go up with Viktor even if he had wanted them to. Maybe the Russian had noticed that as soon as they got in.

     The Miei Occhi were a group similar to the Sverhu, but with connections to the Italian Mafia. Offering money was not enough to convince them to cooperate; they weren’t short of it. They needed something symbolic. Viktor had decided to play the Honor card a long time ago.

     - Viktor Nikiforov. – the leader greeted, laid back on his declinable chair with his feet on the desk in front of him.

     - Michele Crispino. – mimicked the Russian. The Italian offered Viktor a seat, which he declined. – I’m afraid I can’t stay long, my friends would worry, you see?

      Viktor’s voice assumed a cynical tone so it wasn’t hard for Michele to understand he was talking about the security downstairs.

     - I figured it would be nice just us two, the successors. Celestino and Yakov used to always handle business.

     - So business it is. – Viktor supported his body with an arm against the window. – We want you to be available should our organization ever need you.

      - That’s a lot to ask. What would be in it for us?

      - Canadian territory.

      - Your proposal would sound more interesting if you didn’t have the Yakuza on your ass.

      Viktor smirked. – Do you know The Mighty Ones have a new leader?

      - Yes, that JJ asshole.

      - Precisely. You see, I had a very lively conversation with him when we met in Calgary. I think you’d find it more interesting than my proposal.

      The Russian took this cellphone - that he had thrown inside of his car the night before - out of his pocket and played a recording of their meeting.

**_“Yuri will stay with you on my behalf. I have to go meet the Miei Occhi in New Jersey tomorrow.”_ **

**_“How come you get to have all the fun? I wish I could see that Sara Crispino again. Man, what a hot piece of ass. I met her once in New York and let me tell, she is a wild one—_ **

       - STOP THAT THIS INSTANT.

       Viktor Nikiforov knew Michele Crispino had an almost pathological attachment to his little sister and JJ had been bragging about hooking up with her for years. Viktor stepped in front of the clearly shaken man, who had gotten up from his chair and was breathing unevenly. The Russian leaned towards the Italian over the table, holding his weight with both hands, and looked up. His blue eyes were unwavering.

 _ **-** _ Be a call away, and you watch him fall _._

 

* * *

 

願いはずっと叶わないまま 今夜 星座を連れ去って 消えてしまったもう、戻れない…

I haven't yet fulfilled my wish. Tonight, I will take the constellation away,

vanish into the sky and never look back.

 

 

**Viktor.**

**FUKUOKA, 2014**

 

_By the time Viktor managed to arrive at the Katsuki House, Yuuri had already been rescued. The men were still questioning members of the Naiki when the Russian was summoned by the boss, who had led him to where the young master was standing. They didn’t get to see each other often because of their standings, but Viktor felt a weight he didn’t know was still there when him and the Japanese man were face-to-face. (Viktor had thought all the weight had been lifted when he was informed the young master had been found safe.)_

_Yuuri had his head down, his fringe covering his forehead, but you could still see the white bandage lurking. An image of the blood on the dresser crossed the silver-haired man’s mind._ “Look up, young master.” _, he thought,_ “Let me see you.”

_\- Nikiforov._

_\- Yes, sir?_

_\- Behind this door is the traitor that poisoned our men. I want you to take this – Toshiya Katsuki was handing him a gun – and not leave this room until my son executes him._

_Viktor’s eyes widened. He looked over to Yuuri. He hadn’t moved an inch. The young master couldn’t stand violence; why was he being asked to do something like this? Despite his questions, the Russian took the gun. It wasn’t his job to ask questions. Therefore, he took action and opened the door beside them, waiting for younger man to enter first and following him after. The boss closed the door behind them._

_In the room, there was a single chair and man tied to it. He had been severely beaten. Viktor didn’t know if that was the reason he couldn’t recognize him or if they had never really crossed paths. The young master was standing still, keeping his head down. The Russian felt something holding him back, but fought through it and got on one knee in front of Yuuri, presenting him the golden gun like an offering, not daring to look into the Japanese man’s eyes that he had so wanted to see moments before._

_\- Young Master._

_It took Yuuri a few seconds to move. From where Viktor eyes were, he watched as Yuuri’s right hand trembled as it reached for the gun._ He is scared. This is wrong. _When he felt the weight being lifted, Viktor stood up next to his young master, watching quietly as the younger man aimed the weapon at the wrecked underling._

He holds it correctly and firmly; I’ve seen him shoot targets on the head successively in fire practice. He is not nervous, this can’t be the reason he’s shaking. On the other hand, the man is tied to a chair, barely even alive, I am here to solely to protect him, so why would he be afraid? What is it that troubles the young master? Even his lips are trembling.

_With the gun still pointed at his supposed target, Yuuri’s face was reddening, his breathing becoming uneven._

Is he crying?

_The Russian knew he was staring, but couldn’t look away. The tears kept falling from the other man’s eyes as he sniffed and blinked almost successively. Yuuri started breathing only through his mouth. In what couldn't have been a minute, his inhaling and exhaling turned into loud and congestioned gasping._

Is he panicking?

_Suddenly, black eyes that were draped in red met wide and confused blue ones. In that moment, Viktor could finally see. It wasn’t fear Yuuri was feeling. It was compassion. How long had it been since Viktor had witnessed something as inspiring as this? In front of Katsuki Yuuri was the man that had made his kidnapping happen and this twenty-one-year-old, somebody that had lived with Yakuza left and right, couldn’t pull the trigger because he was merciful._

_\- Young master, you don’t need to do this. – the Russian finally said._

_Yuuri quickly turned his head away from him, holding the gun tighter._

_\- I do. - he replied firmly._

_Viktor tried getting closer to him slowly: - Please, young master._

_**\- You don’t understand!** – Yuuri screamed._

_\- Please, young master, enlighten me. – He was now standing inches beside the younger man._

_It took a second, but Yuuri spoke: - Father told me I need to be a man._

Is this what is going through your head? It troubles you that your father doesn’t see you as a man?

    He doesn’t know you. He doesn’t know anything.

_Yuuri bit his bottom lip tightly, trying to muster the courage to pull the trigger. Viktor held his hand gently, his nose now touching the younger man’s hair. Both of them now aiming the gun._

_\- I found it, you know? – he whispered – The porcelain fox. You kicked it as they were dragging you out of the room, right? Even though they had hurt you, even though you were being taken by force, even though you can’t stand the sight of your own blood, you still thought to signal that the Naikis were responsible. Because their symbol is a wild fox._

_Viktor’s fingers started pressing down on Yuuri’s hands, trying to loosen his grip on the gun. The tears were falling even harder now, but he didn’t make a sound._

_\- Do you understand how much strength it takes to do what you did, young master? It made me so proud of you. Because you fought so hard we were able to bring you home. If that’s not being a man, I don’t know what is. – he allowed himself to let out a small chuckle – You see, my mother was an Australian woman who loved flowers. She knew everything about them and shared her knowledge with me. Today, young master, you remind me of Queen Anne’s Lace, white small flowers that mean delicateness and complexity. It isn’t because you are compassionate that you are any less of man. In fact, because you were able to stay compassionate all these years, you are more of a man than any of us. A man’s worth isn’t measured by bloodshed. It’s by their strength to stay true to themselves. - The Russian rested his face on the younger man’s hair, his lips hovering just above Yuuri’s ear. - Please, young master, allow me._

_Viktor felt the trembling hands retreating. One of his took their place. And, with that same wielding hand, he turned Yuuri’s face towards his. He had stopped crying, but his face was still covered in tears._ Nowhere in the world have I seen anything quite this beautiful. _The Russian offered his young master a smile. He wanted to tell him “I know you”, but it was not true. “You’ve awakened something inside of me”, but it was too much. All he had to say was what the man in front of him needed to hear, what he should have been hearing every day._

_\- I see you, morkov’ dikaja._

You can cry as much as you need. I will never think less of you for it. I see and admire you for who you really are.

 _Then, Viktor wiped the younger man’s tears with his free hand and brought his head to his chest, reassuringly brushing his fingers through the silky black hair. The Russian pointed the gun to the target beside him._ Click. _Viktor felt Yuuri flinch in his arm._

_\- Don’t look._

 

* * *

 

 

こんなちいさな星座なのに ココにいたこと 気付いてくれて ありがとう

Thank you for having found me, even though I am such a small constellation

 


End file.
